The Amorus Imedius Potion
by Guy Fawkes
Summary: Chaos ensues when Fred Weasley drops an extra ingredient into Neville's cauldron and creates a potion ripe for disaster.
1. Potions

## 

_The Amorus Imedius Potion_

A/N: After hiding as a mere reviewer and beta reader for months, I guess I'm ready to make my debut as an actual writer. Though this is about a love potion, my own lovely beta reader Rachel (many thanks) was nice enough to plug it by saying, "I'm yet to see a love potion one that hasn't made me cringe within the first hundred words, apart from this luverly little one." And there's a recommendation if ever you needed one. By the way, I wrote all of this HTML stuff from scratch, so if it's really messed up, blame that on the fact that I haven't the slightest idea what I'm doing. ::grin:: 

Disclaimer: All of the following characters, names and places are property of JK Rowling. Suing me would cost you more money than it'd earn you. 

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_Part One: Potions_

_"Potter!_ There will be no smirking in my classroom! Five points from Gryffindor for that idiot smile on your face." 

Harry opened his mouth, unable to believe what he'd just heard, but shut it again after a murderous look from Hermione. Snape was in his foulest mood yet this year, and infractions in his class now included sneezing, ear wiggling and displaying any emotion other than extremely studious unhappiness. Gryffindor had already lost thirty points in the first half-hour of the lesson alone. Of course, the Slytherins were exempt from any punishments within Snape's dungeon, and were going out of their way to taunt the Gryffindors, all of whom were frowning intently at their cauldrons while the Slytherins sniggered and sneezed repeatedly. 

Harry, who hadn't even been aware he had been grinning in the first place, maybe because Cho Chang had just entered his thoughts (the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw Quidditch match was two days away), set his face into an intently blank expression and added three carefully level spoonfuls of diced weasel liver into his potion. 

Snape, pacing the room between the cauldrons, was announcing possible results of the rather complicated potion they were now brewing. "If you managed to get the Instagrow Infusion to the right consistency, which I doubt any of you did, it will cause any living thing to grow to its full potential—or well past it, if you add too much—within seconds. Just think of how you could cheat—" Here he sent a dark look at Harry and Ron, who blanched. "—In Professor Sprout's class with even a vial of this. However, none of you will be taking any of this outside of the dungeon. What do you want?" 

Harry's head snapped up as he saw Fred Weasley pushing open the thick iron door to the dungeon. "Professor McGonagall asked me to bring you this, sir," he said, waggling a piece of parchment as if he needed proof. His flaming red hair and freckles stood out even more against the drab backdrop of cold gray stone. With a wicked grin on his face, Fred sauntered down to Snape, who was standing at the front of the room muttering about the ridiculous number of intrusions during his lectures. He handed him the scrap of parchment, turned on his heel, and—while Snape was scanning the document—flipped something into Neville's cauldron as he passed. 

Neville cried out in frightened indignation, and then immediately clamped his lips shut as was Snape looking angry enough to lunge at him and drown him in his own potion. Behind him, Harry heard the iron door clang shut as Fred exited, whistling softy. 

"Longbottom! Afraid of your own reflection in the potion again?" 

Beside Harry, Hermione made a noise, and then muffled it as Snape's oily black eyes flashed at her. 

"Well, well, well, Miss Granger, enamored of Longbottom, are we? Let's see how much he likes you." He sent a disparaging glance into Neville's cauldron. "It seems Longbottom's potion has gone awry. What a surprise. If the potion has been brewed correctly, it will be ready for use in ten minutes. At that time, we'll make a cocktail of it for Miss Granger here. Either she will grow to her full height and size, or . . . we shall have quite a show. Continue!" 

Harry exchanged extremely alarmed looks with Ron, who was sitting on his other side. Draco Malfoy was high-fiving Goyle. Pansy Parkinson was tittering madly. Hermione, however, looked resolute. Her eyes down on her cauldron, she was whispering instructions to Neville from the corner of her mouth. Harry heard her say, "Now take a scoopful of the crushed beetle eyes---" before he choked in surprise. 

Snape was standing directly behind Hermione. "Miss Granger," he said, almost pleasantly. Hermione stiffened. "Yes, I'd forgotten about your cheating ways. You will leave the room until the potion is ready to be used." 

Ashen, Hermione stumbled to the iron door, shooting frightened looks at Harry and Ron as she went. Harry made a lightning-quick examination of Ron, who was redder in the cheeks than in the hair, clenching his fists in an obvious attempt not to strangle Snape or kill Fred, whichever he could manage first. Moon-faced Neville was blubbering quietly over his failed potion, which was as clear as water when it was supposed to be a bright, sparkling blue. 

Ten minutes passed without any change to the potion. Neville seemed completely unable to function. Harry, who might have been able to help him if he'd started again at the very beginning, was powerless to resurrect a botched potion. With a cruel smile splitting his greasy features, Snape went to fetch Hermione from the corridor. 

"Whatever Snape does to her, Madam Pomfrey should be able to fix it soon enough," Harry murmured to Ron, who shook his head mutely. His blotchy face was struggling between rage and apprehension. 

Snape, looking happier than he had all year, herded the pale Hermione down to the front of the room and instructed her to sit on a metal stool in front of his desk. He produced a tiny glass vial from his pocket and filled it with Neville's clear liquid with an eye-dropper. It looked exactly like plain water, but there was no telling what sort of magical properties it could have. 

"Drink it all, Miss Granger, or three hundred points from Gryffindor." 

Hand shaking slightly, Hermione raised the vial to her lips. 

"Oh, don't," whimpered Lavender Brown involuntarily. Neville hid his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. 

Eyes closed, Hermione drained the vial in one long gulp. 


	2. Amorus Imedius

## 

_The Amorus Imedius Potion_

A/N: And the lameness continues! Actually, this chapter is still just setting it all up, I figured I'd post this at the same time as the first chapter since they're both short and less enticing without one another. And we all know my main aim here is for tons of reviews and possibly idolatry. I also take donations. 

Disclaimer: All of the following characters, names and places are still the property of JK Rowling, much as that irks me. And no, this story was not written for profit (but can I help it if people just randomly send me money? Wink wink, nudge nudge?). 

You may also have noticed that this story is very indifferent to the whole Voldemort-rising thing, as it will continue to be. This is meant to be a bit of fun, and at no point am I going to risk my reputation by an attempt at gravity. 

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_Part Two: Amorus Imedius_

The class waited. Hermione was neither growing rapidly nor breaking out into boils nor down on the floor writhing from the Cruciatus Curse. Harry shifted, and shared a puzzled glance with Ron. Had Neville really turned the potion into water after all? 

Hermione opened her eyes, and smiled. All of the Gryffindors released their breath, while the Slytherins looked extremely disappointed. Malfoy, sitting in the first row, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "rip-off." Hermione turned to smirk at him. 

The silver-haired spawn of Satan raised a sarcastic eyebrow at her, and then started. 

"Er . . . sorry, Hermione." 

Ron's jaw dropped. 

Snape was fuming. "Fifty points from Gryffindor for your—" 

He stopped. Hermione had turned, mouth open indignantly, to voice her objection to his taking points because she hadn't properly turned into a stoat, but the fury suddenly faded from Snape's face. 

"Glad to see you looking well, Miss Granger," he said. There was a pause, and then— 

"So hell _has_ frozen over," Ron whispered, awestruck. 

Hermione had gone rigid on the stool, her mouth working soundlessly. From his seat near the back of the room, Harry could see the wheels turning rapidly in her head. The potion wasn't water after all . . . 

Whatever it was, it was making Snape look like he wanted to ask Hermione out for a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. Malfoy had assumed a dreamy expression that Harry had never seen on his pale pointed face before. 

With an image of Cho suddenly in his mind, Harry thought, _I have got to get some of that stuff._

In perfect form, Hermione had cottoned on quickly, and Harry saw her prepare to press her advantage. 

"Professor Snape?" 

"Yes, dear?" Snape looked at Hermione with a simpering smile and ran a hand through his unwashed black hair compulsively. 

"Could I see you after class?" 

"Certainly." Snape glanced at his watch, and apparently decided that the fifteen minutes until class ended were far too long to wait for a rendezvous with his lady fair. "Class dismissed." 

A cheer rang out from Gryffindors and Slytherins alike. Though he was tempted to go and talk to Hermione about what had happened immediately, Harry realized that he could be affected by the potion as well, and dragged Ron out of the classroom by the arm. 

Fred was waiting for them outside. "Did it work?" 

Ron turned a dangerous shade of purple. "If by 'work' you mean Hermione nearly turned into a frog, yes." 

Fred frowned. "It was supposed to turn into a love potion. I knew you guys were working on the Instragrow Infusion today, and if you put in a polecat tooth at the right place it turns into the Amorus Imedius Potion." He pulled a handful of polecat teeth out of the pocket of his robes and jiggled them demonstratively. "As I passed by Neville's cauldron I saw that his potion was at the right place, and I just couldn't resist. It's Neville, you know how Snape makes his frog drink everything he messes up." 

"He almost messed up _Hermione_," Ron ground out, still purple, his fists clenching as he took a step toward his brother. 

"Amorus Imedius?" Harry prompted hastily. 

"Christened by George and myself," Fred replied quickly, glad for the change in topic. "Yeah, we never were too good with the Latin. We discovered it two summers ago. It makes everyone you meet eyes with fall in love with you within the space of five minutes. After that, it wears off of you, but not off of the people who're already in love." 

Harry had a ghastly vision of Snape sitting amongst a pile of crumpled up parchment, quill in hand, trying to think of words that rhymed with Hermione. "Do they stay in love with you . . . forever?" 

Fred waived a dismissive hand. "Of course not. It only lasts until the next full moon. George and I did all kinds of experiments," he added wickedly. 

Harry returned the grin along with Ron (who was now able to see the humor of the situation) but felt it slide off of his face. He had the feeling that Fred wasn't telling them something. 

"But why—?" He stopped. Hermione had emerged from the dungeon with a positively mischievous smile on her face. Fred winked at them and disappeared down the hallway. 

"Did you see that?" she gushed. "Glad to see you looking well, Miss Granger! That was classic!" 

As the three of them set off for the Gryffindor common room, reliving the finer points of their Potions lesson, Harry looked over at Ron and was surprised to see him blushing bright red down at Hermione. Suddenly, Harry realized that he had never made eye contact with Hermione—but Ron had, as soon as Hermione had caught up with them outside the dungeon. He flinched when she looked up at him, her brown eyes sparkling with very uncharacteristic relish of teacher abuse, but then realized that they were now well past the five-minute mark, and that he still felt quite normal. 

"So . . . so why did you have to see Snape after class?" Ron stammered. Harry groaned inwardly. It was three days until the full moon, was Ron going to be completely and uselessly love-struck for all of them? Could Ron even think of a word that rhymed with Hermione? 

"To get some of that potion, obviously," Hermione said breezily, apparently so wrapped up in her victory over the Potions teacher than she didn't notice that Ron was gazing at her as if seeing a female for the first time. Then Harry felt his heart leap up into his throat. If she gave . . . then he could . . . Cho . . .! 

Hermione was going on. "I just asked him for it, like that, and he said I could take a whole beaker-full if I like! After all that about 'none of you taking any of this out of the dungeon,' too. So I filled up a whole bottle of it." She withdrew a corked glass bottle from the pocket of her robes and swirled its contents, wearing a face-splitting grin. 

"Hermione, I'm proud of you," said Harry. "This ranks right up there with the day you slapped Malfoy and quit Divination." Ron nodded his starry-eyed, mute agreement. 

"I figured we could use some fun. Do you realize what we can do with this stuff? What did Fred throw into Neville's cauldron, anyway?" 

"A polecat tooth," Harry replied, slanting a sideways glance at this curiously carefree Hermione. He related Fred's information, and watched, amazed, as Hermione seemed to get more and more excited. Instead of demanding that they pour the potion down the drain and not take advantage of the indisposed state of Malfoy and Snape, she was chalking up the Amorus Imedius potion to "a bit of harmless fun to take our minds off of Voldemort." 

Fun, yes, Harry thought. Harmless, though . . . 

He glanced at Ron, who was muttering, "Bi-oh-nee, Sigh-oh-nee, Die-oh-nee," under his breath. 

Harmless? Definitely not. 


End file.
